


The River Goes On And On...

by linnetbird



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linnetbird/pseuds/linnetbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song, time travelling archeologist, wife of the Last Time Lord and general trouble maker, has never really been one for sticking to the rules, so when she wants to know all about the man she loves, she's hardly going to let a little thing like the proper organisation of time stand in her way.</p>
<p>Takes place directly after 'The Angels Take Manhattan'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The River Goes On And On...

'The River Goes On And On...'

 

 

When she wanders back into the console room, two comforting teacups carried steadily before her, he is nowhere to been seen. She pauses for a second and then shakes her head, following the steps down to the door, sure that - yes, there he is. Sitting on the floor, legs swinging out of the doorway as the TARDIS hovers in front of a shining nebula cloud.

'I brought you tea.'

She passes it down to him, handing her cup over as well while she adjusts her skirt and settles beside him. He stays silent for a long while as the stars whirl past them.

Watching his young old face, River thinks that these quiet moments with the Doctor are probably her favourite. Amidst all the running and shooting and jumping out of windows, it's good to know that, soon enough, they'll be drinking tea in the light of the universe, dangling their legs in the darkness.

'You know, New York is tough, it's a strong city. And it's been rebuilt before. Maybe I could -'

'Doctor, stop it. You know better than anyone the dangers of a paradox. You can't.'

She keeps her tone sympathetic, knowing firsthand how much pain he's in. It's probably worse for him, she realises. This is the first time he's lost them, though they've been taken from her many times over.

'Tell me a story.' The words come unbidden and he twists to blink at her in surprise.

'What?

'Tell me a story, Doctor.'

'Ah, but you already know my stories, River Song.

'Not all of them. Tell me about the days before we met.'

He looks at her shrewdly; she can almost see the cogs whirring in his brilliant head as he separates out his thoughts and finds a tale that won't change history if he recounts it.

'I met Dickens, once, you know?'

She grins, and presses up against him, sipping her tea.

'Charles Dickens? The Charles Dickens?!'

He laughs wide, his eyes far away.

'That's exactly what I said. He was great, old Charlie-Boy; fantastic!'

There's a trace of another voice in his words, the voice of different man who was powered by the same two hearts.

'Dickens? This I have to hear!'

'Yep, Charles Dickens. In the snow, at Christmas, with ghosts - well, ambulatory dead people, anyway.'

'Come on, Doctor, even for you that's mad. That'd be like... solving crime with Agatha Christie!'

He ducks his head and laughs into his tea, and she makes a note to ask him about _that_ another time.

River shifts her body, tucking her legs up and resting her back on the door frame. The TARDIS hums contentedly against her spine, and River runs an absent hand across the floor.

The Doctor ruffles his hair and sets his cup down.

'It was one of Rose's first trips, and I wanted to show her the past.  So, I aimed for Naples, in 1860.'

'What was Dickens doing in Naples in 1860?'

He looks at her with a half smile, waiting for the penny to drop.

'Ah. I see, you _aimed_ for Naples, 1860. And landed...?

'1869. In... Cardiff.'

She laughs, throwing her head back and feeling the TARDIS vibrate along with her.

River gets the feeling the old girl had more to do with that mistaken touchdown than the Time Lord suspects.

He turns his head away, chin tilted up, ostentatiously ignoring her laughter.

'So, we land in Cardiff, and of course, there's a weird occurrence, I go off to investigate and Rose gets kidnapped. And then, when I try to commandeer a Hansom cab and make chase, Charles Dickens was sitting in it.'

'Charles Dickens, eminent author and well respected literary figure, stole your cab?!'

He looks sheepish. 'Well, not _exactly_...'

 

\--------

 

The woman stands in the shadows of the snowy alley, her high heels resting on the cold Cardiff cobblestones. In the road before her, a man in a historically inaccurate leather jacket strides though the darkness, a pretty blonde girl hanging on his arm.

'I got the flight a bit wrong,' he says, frowning slightly.

'I don't care!' she retorts, bouncing with excitement.

'It's not 1860, it's 1869.'

'I don't care!'

'And it's not Naples.'

'I don't care!'

'It's Cardiff.'

The girl stops abruptly.

'... Right.'

Laughing, River steps carefully away and vanishes into the shadows, leaving the Doctor and Rose to their adventure. She picks her way through the streets and finds the theatre where Dickens is set to perform that night, and seduces a young usher into letting her take a free seat in the back.

She spots the blue wisps of the Gelft long before anyone else and leans forward to get a better view of the old woman  in the centre of the theatre.

When all hell breaks loose she takes only a brief moment to relish the fact that, for once, she hasn't caused the running and screaming, before slipping out the side door and retreating to the shadows again. In the wake of the panicking theatre goers, the Doctor appears again.

River concentrates as she looks him up and down, cataloguing the differences in him.

He's handsome, but harsher than she's used to seeing,  battle ready and tense, a ball of fury and pain and rage in a leather jacket that hangs from him like broken armour. The smile on his face is a little too reckless, just a few steps from a snarl.

She's seen flashes of this in him, in _her_ Doctor, but the version of him standing there in the snow holds his torment out for the world to see, and River wonders if this Doctor would ever have loved her like the boy in the bow tie does, or if they'd have destroyed each other in a blaze of temper and violence.

Some of her jealousy over the parts of his lives that she's missed fades as she warms to Rose, the tiny blonde with the smile who chipped straight through his steel and nestled against his hearts before he even realised she's done it.

River grins as he leaps into a waiting cab and shouts commands to the driver. An indignant exclamation comes from a well dressed bystander - Dickens, apparently -  as his transport is hijacked.

'Because this is my coach!

'Well get in then!'

The doctor gives his own commands as the author ducks inside the vehicle. His face a twist of bafflement, the cab driver leans down.

'Everything  alright, Mr Dickens?'

As the cab hurtles towards the mortuary, River turns and wanders away, unpinning her hair and adjusting her cleavage as she scans the dark streets for the nearest place that'll serve her  a drink.

As always, she has time to kill.

 

A few hours later, and having accidentally taught a bunch of Cardiff dockworkers  all the words to 'Sweet Caroline', River stumbles out of the pub and heads back towards where the TARDIS is patiently waiting for her Doctor. She runs one gentle hand over the wood and the ship shudders slightly in recognition.

'Hello, old girl. Look after him for me, won't you?'

Voices echo down the street and River ducks out of sight, her heels slipping on the snow beneath her feet. The Doctor walks with Rose and Dickens, deep in conversation. River watches as the say good bye - Dickens looks distinctly scandalised as the pair vanish into such a small box, but breaks into laughter as the ship de-materialises and walks off with a wide smile.

'Merry Christmas, sir!'

A man greets the author  as they cross paths, and River steadies herself, adjusting her hat and picking her cloak out of the snow.

'Merry Christmas to you. God bless us, every one!'

River Song walks deliberately into the path of Charles Dickens and turns her face up to his.

'Mr Dickens, sir? I'm your number one fan.'

The man stops in his tracks, startled.

'You're the second person to tell me that tonight, madam.'

River takes his arm and smiles sweetly.

'What an odd coincidence. So tell me, Mr Dickens, what have you been up to on this cold Christmas Eve?'

**Author's Note:**

> I have mega love for River, she is my absolute favourite. I also think the Doctor doesn't quite know what he's got himself into with her, either, which makes me very happy.


End file.
